


Synthetic Pursuits

by alltheginjoints



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Community: falloutkinkmeme, F/F, Female Relationships, Femslash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-05-07 10:51:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5454005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltheginjoints/pseuds/alltheginjoints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glory grapples with her decision to let Nora and Doctor Amari put the robot consciousness of Curie in G5-19, another synth, formerly one of Glory's closest friends. As Glory adjusts to having Curie around, she learns how to honestly let someone into her life, as well as the importance of letting others go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Impostor Syndrome

**Author's Note:**

> After completing "Emergent Behavior", the dynamic between Glory and Curie seemed rife with potential, so this is just me expanding on that. That, and I just wanted to write lesbian synths. But first, a lil angst and frustration.

“Fine. Do it. Do it now, before I change my mind.”

She watched G5-19 laying in the Memory Lounger, her chest tightening, as Doctor Amari fiddled with her console.

Doctor Amari spoke to the robot. “Curie, let’s begin.”

"I should see this through,” Glory said, almost to herself.

Sitting on the only couch in the room, she steadied her breathing. This was finally it. Even though Glory knew G5-19 was gone after a failed mind wipe, she still held out the tiny misguided hope that one day Doctor Amari would find a way to completely restore her.

The tension in her chest rose up and settled in her throat, made more uncomfortable by the itchy feeling of being watched. Searching for the source, she glanced over at Nora, who was leaning against a low cabinet, arms crossed. Nora raised her eyebrows at her, mouthing something she couldn’t make out.

Glory turned away, tears springing to her eyes. She wiped them away as furtively as she could. As much as Deacon, Dez, and everyone at Railroad HQ seemed to trust the Vault Dweller, Glory couldn’t. And now, having Nora in the same room, as Glory watched one of her closest friends finally leave her, it felt like an intrusion. Nora had no idea what Glory and G5-19 had been through. She never would.

She could hear Doctor Amari narrating the procedure, probably for Nora’s sake. Glory refocused on G5-19, her tears welled again as she looked at the lifeless body of one of her closest friends, heart hammering against her ribcage, accompanying the crescendo of Doctor Amari’s frantic tapping on the keyboard, and then—

G5-19’s chest expanded with a sharp gasp as the Miss Nanny dropped with a clank.

“Ah….I, my chest…what is happening?”

Her stomach plummeted. Glory rose from the couch, trying to peer inside the memory lounger. It had been so long since she’d seen G5-19 in motion, but the voice coming out of her was all wrong.

She tuned out the indistinct chatter as Doctor Amari talked Curie through the functions of her new body.

Hands shaking, Glory patted her pockets down, needing another cigarette. Thankfully, no one was focused on her right now. Nora began noisily stripping the Miss Nanny of all possible salvage, drowning out the exchange between Doctor Amari and G5-19. Glory took advantage of the noise, letting out a loud, shaky breath. The past fifteen minutes had shoved her off balance, a feeling she was unaccustomed to. Her time in the Railroad had only honed her innate coolness. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried. And now she was in some dingy basement, practically blubbering where _people could see her_. She was mortified.

She finally found a cigarette, along with her battered flip lighter. Gratefully, she lit up, the motion of it steadying her nerves. She watched G5-19 go through a few cognitive function tests with Doctor Amari. Glory shook her head. Not G5-19. Curie. Her name is Curie now. 

Dragging on her cigarette, she tuned back into the conversation happening around her.

“Oh, my insides feel peculiar. What is that?” Curie spoke, somewhat breathlessly.

“You might be feeling grief, for a friend,” Nora explained.

“This unit has no friends. But…there, my chest is tightening when I think of poor Doctor Burrow.”

Glory smiled bitterly to herself, her own chest tightening. She set her lips in a tight line, exhaling through her nostrils.

"I guess we have that in common now, Curie,” she thought to herself.

“The operation appears successful. But I think it will take a lot of adjustment for your new friend.”

Glory half-listened to Nora and Doctor Amari discuss Curie’s procedure, staring critically at Curie.

She watched Curie tentatively walked to the couch, getting used to using feet and legs instead of thrust propulsion to move around. She gingerly sat down, looking at Nora and Doctor Amari talking, her face earnest and open.

Glory turned away, her face twisted with disgust. How long would it take for her to get used to not having G5-19 around? It was one thing to care for her in a vegetative state, but to see G5-19’s body functioning without G5-19 in it was theft.

She’d adapt, eventually. But seeing Curie tottering around like a newborn Radstag was testing her. Irritation bloomed inside her chest, but Glory quashed it as Nora approached her.

Glory spoke first. “Listen. G5-19 went through a lot, but she was good. Solid. I hope a little of that’s left in there. And if it isn’t, make sure all this was worth it.”

“What was G5 like?”

“Tough. Tough enough the SRB had to strip her mind. More than once. When I saw G5, she didn’t even recognize me,” she spoke softly, her voice cracking slightly, “But I owed her from my time in the Institute.” Pause. “That’s all I’m going to say.”

Nora looked hard at her, the questions there in her mouth, but said nothing.

“Losing G5 was tough. But, I think she would have wanted her death to mean something,” her face clouded as she stubbed out her cigarette, “See you back at HQ.”

Without a backwards glance, Glory strode out of the lab and up the stairs, ignoring Irma’s goodbyes. Stepping out of the dim light of the Memory Den and onto the grimy street, she stopped. Her breath condensed and swirled in front of her. The sun was low, and the Neighborhood Watch was bundling up for the night, pulling on moth eaten scarves and gloves that were more hole than cloth. Unsure of what to do next, she pressed her fingertips to her temples, as if to dam up the day's events.

She didn’t need to be back at HQ right away, Des wasn’t expecting her yet and no missions were planned. What she did need was a stiff drink. Or six.

“Might as well go pay a visit to C2-41,” she thought to herself, letting herself into the old subway station, striding past Ham into The Third Rail, “at least I’ll be in good company.”


	2. The Third Rail

Navigating through the crowd crammed into the old metro station, Glory sidled up to the bar. She nabbed a seat with a clear line of sight to the stage. C2-41 was singing now, she’d wait for her break. Waving away a purple-tinged cloud of cigarette smoke, she flagged down Whitechapel Charlie.

“What’ll it be, luv?” One of Charlie’s eyes swiveled to look at her.

“Two shots of Bobrov’s Best, and a vodka, neat.”

“Alright then, let’s get ya liquored up.”

The shots came out quickly, she downed them both, and signaled Charlie for two more. He deposited her vodka and hovered over to the other end of the bar, barking at some other patrons.

She took a sip, swishing it around in her mouth. Not bad, much better than what she could scrounge up dumpster diving. Glory didn’t drink often, but it still took quite a bit of alcohol for her to even feel a buzz, let alone drunk.

Looking around the bar, it was the usual crowd of drifters and vagrants, all here to drink away their troubles, relax, and listen to the music. She almost felt sorry for them, poor bastards with no where else to go. Except she was the same as them, drinking away her own sob story.

Finishing her vodka, she turned back to the bar where Charlie was bringing out her moonshine.

“Rough day, luv?”

“Charlie,” she said, pausing to finish a shot, “you have no idea.”

“Well, yer not alone, can promise ya that one.”

“Thanks Charlie. And keep these coming”, gesturing to the empty vodka, “Oh, and, here—tip for you,” she slid a few caps towards him.

“Thanks luv, ‘ppreciate it.” He used one of his mechanical appendages to scrape the caps into a tip tin behind the bar. 

A smattering of applause broke out, the music was just wrapping up. Charlie flicked on the battered radio in the corner as the singer approached the bar. Glory could just make out the strains of the Diamond City Radio DJ, Travis “Lonely” Miles introducing the next song. 

“Charlie, just a water, please”, she called over.

“Anything for you Miz Magnolia.”

Staring at her drink, Glory pointedly ignored Magnolia’s approach until it was impossible not to, the only free stool at the bar was right next to her.

Magnolia slid into the empty stool, smoothing the front of her red sequined dress.

“You are such a sweetheart, thanks Charlie,” she said, as the robot slid a purified water to her. Taking a sip, she looked sideways at Glory.

“And what do we have here?” Magnolia said quietly in her trademark drawl, playing it up a little. “Don’t tell me you came all the way down here just to see me. You wouldn’t do something like that now, would you Glory?”

Despite herself, Glory’s heart skipped, her face flushing. Magnolia’s voice had that effect on her. Trying to hide it, she drank her vodka. Too fast, she coughed as it went down the wrong pipe.

“Have some.” Magnolia pressed the water into her free hand, their fingers brushing.

Glory gratefully took the cup, drinking greedily. “Thanks Mags”, she finally said, her voice thick with effort.

Magnolia smiled. “Of course. Now, what actually brings you here?”

Glory looked at her archly, taking the remaining shot of moonshine and downing it. “Just here to take in the sights of this beautiful town, pick up some of Marowski’s finest, maybe see an old friend.”

Magnolia laughed, leaning back on her stool. “Not work?”

“No, not exactly”, Glory said quietly. She could hear her pain bleeding into her voice.

“Oh? Sounds like you need a few more of these.” Magnolia took her vodka glass, rattling it at Charlie. He acknowledged her with a flick of one of his many arms.

“That’s an understatement.” She was starting to feel the alcohol, her teeth were tingling and her brain loosened. She leaned into Magnolia, brushing her dark hair behind her ear, cupping her hand over it, whispering. “Do you remember G5-19?”

Magnolia turned to her, her movements composed, compensating for the alarm she must have felt. “So it was for work?”

Their foreheads were practically touching, the combination of alcohol and Magnolia’s signature perfume, a heady sandalwood and lavender scent, was very distracting.

Glory leaned back, shaking her head emphatically. “No no, not like that.” Taking a deep breath, and a sip of her drink, Glory told Magnolia the highlights of the afternoon, whispering in her ear.

As a synth-turned-associate for The Railroad, Magnolia was no stranger to Glory’s work. She was an associate only in the loosest sense, keeping her eyes and ears open in the town of Goodneighbor, an extra safety blanket for Doctor Amari.

“Oh, Glory, I’m so sorry.” Her eyes softened as she took in Glory’s grief.

“It’s okay. I mean, I’ll get used to it, eventually. It’s just weird to see her like that.” Glory looked despondently at her empty vodka.

“I know doll.” Magnolia’s voice was soft as she idly fished an ice cube out of her drink.

“Does it get easier?” Glory swallowed, choking back the desperation in her voice.

Dropping the cube back in her drink, Magnolia picked her words carefully. “In a way. You still mourn the person they were, but you can’t let that stop you from appreciating who they’ve become.” She pointedly took one of Glory’s hands in both of hers, giving it a squeeze. “Believe me, it’s a fine line at first, but it gets easier with time.”

Nerves singing, Glory looked at her, holding her stare. Too much. Flustered, Glory extracted her hand, fumbling for a cigarette. Magnolia smoothly pulled out a lighter, trying to find Glory’s gaze.

Glory lit her cigarette, turned toward the stage, exhaling a cloud of smoke. Steadying herself. It had been ages since she’d seen Magnolia, and she was already drained from The Memory Den. Closing her eyes, she regrouped.

Gently putting a hand on the small of her back over her jacket, Magnolia stood up, leaning over Glory. “I’ve got one more set. Wait, it won’t take long.”

Glory could feel Magnolia’s hand as clearly as if it were touching her bare skin. She nodded.

She watched Magnolia take the stage, along with everyone else in the room. The bar had gotten progressively busier as the night wore on, and as the lone, sad drunk, she was conspicuously out of place amongst the revelers.

_“Maybe I just need to blow off a little steam”_ , she thought to herself. Looking up at Magnolia, she grinned. That woman still had it. 

She’d run into Magnolia over the years, and despite the professional nature of their relationship, the physical attraction they had was undeniable. The two had a few dalliances, but they mutually agreed, nothing too substantial. Glory had the Railroad and Magnolia had her music.

Magnolia, with a pointed gaze at Glory, announced her final song of the night. Glory could hear the opening strains of “Baby It’s You”.

She smiled at Magnolia, wolf-like, laughing to herself. This was one of her favorites.

“…I felt my world shake, out of control”, Magnolia sang, looking directly at Glory.

Glory was a little too drunk to be stone faced the entire song, trading knowing looks with Magnolia. She felt her smile split her face, turning away from the stage, laughing. She could hear the smile in Magnolia’s voice as she sang.

Wrapping up her tab, apologizing through a fit of giggles as Charlie admonished her, “You nearly cleaned out me stock of liquor, and we just put it on the menu a few weeks ago” “Charlie Charlie, I’m sorry, but that moonshine is too good, here, take some more caps” “You watch yourself luv” “For you Charlie, anything—” Magnolia interrupted her, sliding her arm around Glory, kissing her cheek, grazing the stubble on the side of her head. “You ready to go?”

Glory, riding high on giggles, booze, and emotional overload, kissed Magnolia full on the mouth.

For the briefest moment, Glory’s mind was completely, blissfully, blank, as Magnolia kissed her back, tongues intertwining. It was only after she heard the whistles and hoots of other patrons in The Third Rail that she extracted herself from Magnolia, realizing they should move to somewhere more private.

“You’re still at the Rexford?”

“Of course", Magnolia said, "Now let’s go!”

Glory tugged on Magnolia’s hand, pulling her through the crowd, practically skipping up the stairs into the night.


	3. Baby, It's You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing but Glory/Magnolia smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally my first time writing anything like this, so please bear with me!

By the time they reached the doors of the Hotel Rexford, Glory had composed herself, somewhat. She had at least stopped giggling. Magnolia pushed the doors open, and together they strode across the lobby, past indifferent drifters and curious onlookers alike. 

Too impatient to wait for the elevator, they took the stairs, Glory leaping the steps two at a time. She looked down at Magnolia, in her black pumps, prudently climbing one stair at a time. 

“You know, I could just carry you, it’d be faster," Glory faux scolded, hands on her hips.

“Or you could learn a little patience”, Magnolia teased, purposefully climbing the stairs slowly, “it’s the last door on the left, but you knew that.”

Magnolia stepped on to the landing to see Glory leaning against her door, arms crossed and impatiently tapping her foot. 

“Hurry UP”, Glory groaned.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re going to want this to last all night," Magnolia purred, unlocking the door.

With smoothness only alcohol brings forth, Glory shoved the door open, pulled Magnolia in by the waist, and booted the door closed, all in one fluid motion.

Glory practically lunged at Magnolia, their teeth smashing as their lips found each other. Glory unzipped and tugged down on Magnolia’s dress, the red sequins digging into her calloused palms. Their tongues intertwined, hints of stage sweat, cigarette smoke, and vodka melded together in their mouths. Glory could feel the distant pressure of the other woman’s hands on her through her bulky jacket.

“Get this fucking—jacket off”, Glory broke their kiss as she pulled at the buttons on her jacket. Flinging her coat to the floor, she watched Magnolia switch on a lamp in the corner, casting the room in a soft glow. Flicking on the radio to the one classical station, she kicked off her black pumps toward the sagging couch. Glory flushed, warm from booze and kissing and sheer excitement. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to how Magnolia looked; soft, unscarred, perfectly grown in a laboratory. 

Still tipsy, she tripped over the red dress that pooled at her feet. Plonking her ass down, she took the chance to hurriedly unlace her boots.

Still mesmerized, Glory watched Magnolia saunter over to her bed, languidly sprawling out, waiting for her. She marveled at Magnolia’s hourglass figure, all tits and hips. Clad in her flimsy bra and tiny underwear, she looked like she belonged in one of those pre war pin up girl magazines.

Practically ripping off her pants, wearing only her dirty tank top and tight shorts, Glory leapt up on the bed. As light as a predator stalking it’s prey, she straddled Magnolia, sinking down, settling over Magnolia’s groin. 

Magnolia slid her hands up under her shirt, over the scars on Glory’s waist, rubbing a smooth thumb over a nipple. 

“You’re so beautiful, Glory," she said, her voice catching slightly. Closing her eyes, Glory smiled. Even if she never quite believed it, it was still nice to hear.

Magnolia tugged at her undershirt, Glory pulling it off over her head. Her nipples stiffened in the chilly air. Magnolia ran her hands over Glory’s small, sinewy arms, thumbing a burn scar over the corded muscle. 

“You really are gorgeous”, she drawled, and Glory knew she meant it.

Leaning over her, she chuckled. “Mags, you sure know how to flatter a lady.” She pressed her mouth to Magnolia’s, their lips open and inviting. Sparks zipped through her as her bare nipples brushed against Magnolia.

“Your turn.”

Glory pulled Magnolia up, sucking on her bottom lip as she undid the flimsy bra, flinging it across the room. She eased Magnolia back on the bed, trailing wet kisses over her cool skin, down her neck, up the slope of her breast, before teasing her nipple with her teeth and tongue. Magnolia let out a throaty sigh, her fingers tangling themselves in Glory’s hair. 

Glory moved to the other breast, her fingers tracing the red lines Magnolia’s bra left on her skin. Magnolia tugged on her hair, pulling her head up.

“Everything okay?” she asked, panting slightly.

“Please just—” Magnolia half finished her sentence, “I need you, make me come," her voice crackling on the last word. 

Not for the first time that night, she smiled, wickedly. “Oh, believe me, I intend to," she said, her voice throaty and low. 

Glory scooted down towards Magnolia’s feet, tracing her fingers across Magnolia’s hips, inching her underwear off at an agonizing pace. Magnolia huffed, kicking it off once Glory reached her knees. Splaying her legs apart, she gripped the sheets, readying herself. 

_“With good reason,"_ Glory thought, remembering the last time they had sex, months ago.

Glory took her time. She slid her hands up Magnolia's legs, over her dimpled knees, resting them on her thighs. She situated herself onto her stomach, planting soft kisses along Magnolia’s inner thighs. She could feel the woman's legs tremble, her breathing going shallow in anticipation. 

She heard Magnolia gasp as she parted the soft outer lips and ran her tongue over her clit. She dipped lower, running her tongue along her slit. She inhaled Magnolia’s scent, warm and sweet. 

Magnolia arched off the bed, urgently pressing her pubic mound to Glory’s mouth. Matching her pressure, she pushed one of Magnolia’s thighs up, swirling her tongue over her clit. Glory listened to her whimpers grow louder, waiting.

“Glory, please— finish," Magnolia groaned, her voice raw.

Glory sealed her clit in her mouth, sucking and tonguing exactly how Magnolia loves, rewarding her. 

Magnolia wailed, throaty and loud, thighs tensing around Glory’s head as she arched back, rippling yet soft. Glory gives a few delicate parting licks, propping herself up on her elbows.

Magnolia’s eyes are closed, panting heavily, twisting in the sheets slightly as aftershocks roll through her. Glory scoots up to lean over her, trailing kisses over her collarbone, leaving a slight slick trail of her juices.

“You ready for your turn, honey?” Magnolia said, eyes still closed.

“I think the better question is, are you ready?” Glory teased. 

“Hop up.” 

Glory spread her knees apart and gripped the dusty headboard while Magnolia arranged herself below her, her face even with Glory’s mound. Using her elbows, she keeps Glory’s knees parted. Running her hands over a scarred gash on Glory’s waist, she grips her hips, pulling her down to lap at her cunt.

“Oh fuck!” Glory growled. Magnolia could see some of her white hair plastered to her forehead, bottom lip between her teeth, eyes screwed shut in concentration. She threw her head back with a moan, releasing the headboard, tweaking her stiff nipples.

Magnolia tongued her clit furiously, matching Glory’s grinding rhythm against her mouth. 

“Don’t— stop!” Glory panted. Her tensed thighs shook with exertion, she wailed as she rode out her climax, gripping the bed for support. 

Still shaking, she slides off Magnolia, flopping on the opposite side of the bed in a satisfied, exhausted heap. She feels Magnolia move around, and one of the good blankets Magnolia owns lands on her with a soft thump. 

“You’re gonna want that sweetheart, the heater’s broken in here.”

Shivering under a sheen of sweat, she realizes how cold the room is. Unfolding the blanket, she pulls Magnolia closer to her. Draping an arm over her abdomen, Glory nestles into her neck, both of them still in a drowsy, content haze. 

The last thing she remembered before dozing off was Magnolia’s soft kiss against the stubbly side of her head and the vibration of her low, calm voice as she hummed along to the radio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written smut before, so any pointers or tips anyone has are appreciated!


	4. Hangover Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glory leaves Magnolia and heads back to HQ.

The steady, constant pounding of a headache greeted Glory the next morning. Feeling guilty, she swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. Despite the general safety of Goodneighbor, she didn’t like the chance of being caught off guard.

While the room was nicer than standard accommodations at the Hotel Rexford, it was still ancient. Pre war. No matter how many times Magnolia’s room may have been cleaned, age couldn't be scrubbed away. Creaky floorboards barely supported the spindly legs of half blasted furniture. The windows were shrouded in old sheets just thin enough to let the weak red glow of the Hotel Rexford’s marquee filter through.

She delicately untangled herself from the collection on limbs and hair that was Magnolia. Padding across the floor, she bristled at the cold, half wishing she had slept with some clothes on last night. Picking through the pile of clothes on the floor, she glanced at Magnolia’s sleeping form. She wouldn’t mind if Glory slipped out of the room, no note or parting words.

The halls of the Hotel Rexford were nearly empty as she strode through them, save for patrons of the Third Rail stumbling home. Pushing open the lobby’s double doors, she nearly collided with one of the Neighborhood Watch.

“Watch it!” he snapped, shuffling past her.

“Sorry," she muttered, pulling her beanie hat out of her pocket. 

The Neighborhood Watch were more on edge than usual. Since Nora had shacked up with Hancock, they spent most of their time either roaming the Commonwealth or holed up in the back room at the Red Rocket Truck Stop. Even though Fahrenheit kept up with day to day responsibilities, the citizens of Goodneighbor must have felt unmoored without their mayor, the anchor of the community. Some of the drifters talked about holding elections for a new mayor, but she doubted anyone would follow through with it. Hancock was irreplaceable to Goodneighbor.

She enjoyed the relative emptiness of the streets, her boots crunching on the frosty cobblestones as she ambled to Goodneighbor’s main exit, and the dry, cold air cleared her head. Living got cramped inside the subterranean chambers of the Old North Church, and missions were usually too stressful to enjoy any aspect of being outside.

Shutting the the outer door to Goodneighbor behind her, she calculated the stealthiest route she could take back to the church. She may be a heavy, but she wasn’t reckless. She preferred to slip by the packs of super mutants, ferals, and raiders that infested the ruins, especially if she was alone. The cold may have driven a few potential enemies inside, but she didn’t take chances.

She decided to pick her way over the ruins, out the to water to follow the shore line around to the church. It was longer, but she could afford to take the scenic route. No one at HQ expected her back for a few days. She wasn’t fond of wasting time, but she wanted to prepare herself for the inevitable questions everyone would ask her about her feelings. Invasive inquiries delivered in too sweet tones, too quietly. She understood why. She knew everyone at HQ was family, they cared about each other, and relied on each other, for life and death. They couldn’t afford anyone functioning at anything less than perfect. She knew that they knew she’d be upset about G5-19. But she also wanted them to shut up about it.

With a huff, she bundled herself against a blast of wind and set off into the cold rising sun.


	5. Lone Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PostG5-19 loss, Glory faces everyone at HQ and picks up a new mission.

“Jesus, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Glory slipped past Drummer Boy, rolling her eyes. “Stand a better watch then.”

Rubbing her icy hands against her stinging cheeks, she descended the stairs into the main chamber of Railroad HQ, her body relaxing of it’s own accord. She liked the crypts beneath the Old North Church. Packed dirt floor, low ceilings, everyone sharing the same space. It brought a certain coziness that the old Railroad HQ, Switchboard, lacked. After losing Switchboard, and her former protege, Tommy Whispers, it was reassuring to have everyone working and living in the same room. Annoying at times, but everyone coped. 

She glanced at the cluttered central map table Dez used for their mission briefs. No updates. She could hear Tinker Tom soldering some circuitry together, the coppery heat seeping into her nostrils. Weaving her way through the ancient pillars, she took off her overcoat, cramming it into her locker. 

“Don’t get too comfortable”, Deacon’s low voice called out from the lower chamber they turned into a shooting range. “Dez has something for you.”

 _Already?_ she thought, _Great, if it gets me out of here._

Deacon sauntered towards her, patting his pockets down. Anticipating his request, Glory tossed him her lighter. As one of the Railroad’s most competent agents, trusted with their most covert missions, Glory could never understand how Deacon was incapable of holding onto a lighter for more than a few hours. He caught it, nodding a silent thank you as he lit up one of his cigarettes. Glory nicked one from the pack he kept rolled in his sleeve.

She lit it and dragged deeply, the nicotine steadying her nerves. 

“Where is Dez?”, she said, turning to Deacon, eyeing her reflection in his cult-leader sunglasses.

“Oh, you know”, Deacon evaded, talking around the cigarette in his mouth, “She’s out, didn’t tell me where she was going.”

“She went to Bunker Hill, Glory”, Doc Carrington called over to them.

“Thanks Doc”, she called back, giving Deacon a pointed stare.

He smiled wryly at her. “She’s picking up the Death Bunnies shirts I had made.”

“Shut up”, she laughed, slapping his arm, “I told you, that name is stupid.”

“Better than the one you made up.”

“I didn’t make one up.”

“Exactly.”

They both chuckled. She may be tired of and exasperated with the rest of the world, but it was impossible for her to hold that against Deacon.

“Hey”, he said, leaning in, keeping his voice low, “everything go well in Goodneighbor?”

 _Here we go,_ she thought, quashing her irritation.

“Yeah”, she took another drag, “it was fine. Good, even.”

“Good,” he said, flicking ash, “just wondering.”

They both fell silent, the unasked questions hanging in the air between them. Deacon wasn’t one to press, though. Glory was grateful for that.

“I’m going to make some noodles”, Deacon said, tossing the butt to the ground as he walked over to the communal hot plate, “want any?”

She became aware of how little she’d eaten in the past 24 hours. Nothing at all, save for all the drinks at the Third Rail the night before. “Sure, do we have any of that tato sauce left?” Nora introduced the Railroad to a post apocalyptic version of spaghetti sauce, and everyone was hooked. 

“A little, but we’re running pretty low.” Deacon’s voice was muffled as he dug through their food stores, “Good thing you’ll be seeing her later, you can ask her to make more.”

Glory bristled. “Why, exactly, will I be seeing her later?”

“Glory.” Her name sounded like an apology.

“Deacon, Dez knows I work alone!”, sounding more frustrated than she intended.

“I know, believe me, we all know, but they’re asking for more firepower than usual, and Dez doesn’t want to take any chances.”

“WHO is?”, she shouted.

“Ticonderoga. Listen, I don’t have all the details, but—“

“Unbelievable” she said, cutting him off. Suddenly very aware of her hands, she jammed her balled fists into her pockets and took a deep breath. “When did you say Dez was getting back?”

“I didn’t.”

“Soon, Glory”, Doc Carrington interjected, “she’s only gone to Bunker Hill.”

Glory fumbled for another cigarette. She may be angry, but she wasn’t unprofessional, she would speak to Dez later, alone. 

“Deacon, where’s my lighter?”

“Heads up.”

Deacon tossed a box that was definitely not her lighter. 

“We’ve been saving these for you, and I figured now was as good a time as any to give them to you.”

She turned the box over. Fancy Lads Snack Cakes, her favorite.

She turned to store them in her locker, flipping her curtain of white hair in front of her face to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. “Thanks Deacon”, she said, her voice clipped to keep it from cracking. 

“Don’t mention it”, Deacon said, turning back to the hot plate, “You still want some of these noodles? They’re all done.”

“Yeah, let me get mine first, don’t go hogging them all for yourself.” Already past her momentary loss of composure, she shoved past Deacon and flopped down onto one of the chairs surrounding the main map table. 

They heard the main entrance open up as they were slurping noodles from a pair of cracked bowls. Desdemona was back. 

“Glory, meet me in P.A.M.’s room whenever you’re done.” Dez called over to her, “We need to go over this mission.”

Glory looked over Deacon. He raised his eyebrows under those ridiculous sunglasses as if to say told you so. She rolled her eyes and tucked into her noodles. 

Depositing her bowl with a clatter in the communal dish bucket, she strode past Doc Carrington’s work station and into the back room that served as P.A.M.’s office. 

“Dez, what the hell?” Glory spoke before Desdemona had a chance, “You know I work alone.”

“I know! I know, but this is different. We’ve been getting reports from Tico that some Gen 1’s have set up a position too close to them, they can’t get in or out. If we leave them there, the Institute is going to confirm the existence of Ticonderoga sooner or later.”

“That’s it? You know I can do that alone!”

“Even with the Gen 1’s?”

Glory paused. Her position on killing Generation 1 synths was no secret. “If that’s the mission, I’ll get it done.”

“That’s not the only problem. P.A.M.’s models predict a larger number of synths than the standard Institute outpost. I don’t feel comfortable sending in you alone. We have Nora, I’m going to use her. She’s an asset in a fight like this.”

“Do you not trust me?” Glory demanded, “You know I can handle myself.”

Desdemona sighed. “Glory, you know I trust you. But, after losing Slocum Joe’s, Tommy Whispers, and everyone else, I don’t want to take any chances. We can’t afford to lose you. Two person integrity is the best shot we have for these clearing missions.” 

Glory relented. “Fine. Where am I meeting her?” 

Desdemona’s entire body sagged with relief. “North of Monsignor Plaza. We don't have exact coordinates on where the synths may be, but that shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

“Fine, I’ll head out.” She turned to leave.

“Glory?” Desdemona started, and then paused. “Never mind, it can wait.”

“No, what is it?” Glory anticipated this.

“Well, just wanted to see how you’re holding up. About G5.” She saw Glory tense up, rushing what she wanted to say, “ Listen, I know you’re going to say you’re fine, and I believe it, but I want you to know you did the right thing. Because I know you're second guessing yourself.”

A lump settled in her throat, as large as a deathclaw egg. Glory swallowed, and stared at her boots. “Thanks Dez”, she said quietly, “anything else for me?”

“No. Go ahead and get out of here, whenever you’re ready.” Dez clapped her on the back as they walked back to the central chamber, together.

“Catch some sleep first”, Deacon interjected, “Doc’s told me his medical opinion is ‘you look like shit’ and the only cure is a nap.”

“Glory I said no such thing!” Doc Carrington defended himself in his low monotone, “Although you could do with more rest, before you leave for a mission like this.”

“Fine, I’m going, leave me alone”, she said, in a mocking childish tone. She plopped down on her mattress, kicking her boots off. “Oh, and Deacon, give me my lighter back. It’s my favorite.”

“I lost it already”, he smiled, pulling it from his pocket and lighting another cigarette.

“Deacon, do not make me put these boots back on and shove my foot up your ass!”, she laughed.

"Oh, come on Glory, you have more, and if you take this one from me, I’ll have to use a bunsen burner, and you know how well that goes.” Deacon faux whined, referencing the infamous flaming pompadour wig incident.

Tinker Tom let out a hearty guffaw, and the rest of them collapsed into laughter. Glory dug around in her locker for another lighter. 

“Here”, she called over to Deacon, “trade me, although you’re going to lose it in a matter of minutes, let’s be honest.”

“No, this one’s going to stick around, I promise.” They tossed the lighters to each other. She tucked her favorite lighter under her pillow. “Don’t even think about trying to nick this while I’m out.”

He smirked, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Better not”, she grumbled, settling into her mattress. She may have slept last night in Magnolia’s embrace, but nothing compared to her own bed, surrounded by the sentinel pillars of the catacombs.


	6. Unpleasant Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glory sets out on her joint mission with Nora.

It was the middle of the night when Glory woke. Most of the lights had been extinguished, save for a few flickering candles at the bases of the pillars, she could see the light dancing over the sleeping forms of most of the HQ family. She turned, brushing a shock of white hair out of her sleep filled eyes. Drummer Boy was sitting at one of the spindly wooden chairs, his feet propped up against the map table, staring off into the middle distance. Silent and unmoving, like one of those creepy statues outside the old library. 

She peeled her blankets off and involuntarily shivered. Tensing, she forced herself to stop. It was going to be much colder on the surface, and she didn’t want to be a shaky mess before she went topside. Rummaging through her locker, she pulled out her long johns, road leathers, and her heaviest leather coat. She paused, thought for a moment, and grabbed extra socks too. 

She dressed, as quietly as one could in an outfit with lots of noisy buckles. Finally, pulling her pants up, she tucked her shirt into them and looked over the sleeping bodies. No one had stirred. She glanced over to Drummer Boy, who, with a bemused look of his face, shook his head and fished into his breast pocket, pulling out his matches and a cigarette. Glory busied herself, lacing her boots. She heard the match scrape over the bricks and catch, magnified in the silence of the tombs.

She stood, shifting in her boots. She’d be comfortable enough for the first leg of the mission. She hoisted her three day bag, and crept around the slumbering bodies, dropping down the stairs to the armory. Perusing the weapons, she considered her options. If this was a solo mission, she’d take her minigun. Her eyes flicked longingly to the Gauss Rifle, but Tinker Tom would never forgive her for taking his “baby” out without his permission. Settling on a heavily modified combat shotgun, she slung it over her bag and filled her front pockets with extra ammunition, the shells clicking together, metal and plastic. As she ascended the short stairs, she grabbed her 10mm pistol, almost as an afterthought, and slid it into her hip holster. 

She picked her way back through the mattresses, catching Drummer Boy’s eye with a small wave. He gave her a half salute in return, disturbing the perfect smoke rings he was blowing in the stillness. She crept through the back doorway to the emergency exit, and clambered out to face what awaited her in the Commonwealth. 

The wind whipped her hair in front of her eyes as she clambered out from the emergency hatch. As much as the wind chilled her, she was grateful for the ferocity; her snowy boot prints leading from the hatch would be erased in minutes. She pulled a knit cap from her pocket and slid it over her head and ears. 

Setting a course for north west, she’d take the Bunker Hill bridge. She trudged along through the wind, cheeks stinging, boots crunching in the snow. She looked at them with a thin, flat smile. The boots were an especially good find. Big, comfortable shit kickers, pulled from one of the vaults. One of the other agents had wanted them, but Deacon found them, and insisted they go to Glory. 

She pulled her rifle from her pack as she approached the bridge. No cover, one point of egress, raiders and mutants could pick her off easy if they wanted to. She doubted they would be especially vigilant at this hour, in these bitter winds, but she hadn’t stayed alive this long by being complacent. 

She could see the Bunker Hill tower, lit up in the distance. Her rendezvous point, a series of ruined buildings Nora called Kendall Apartments, was close, just to the west. Nora had recently done one of Tinker Tom’s ridiculous MILA missions there, any remaining raiders that hadn’t been obliterated wisely bolted. If she beat Nora there, she’d wait at the MILA vantage point for her to arrive, unnoticed and with the tactical advantage. 

_“Not that I’ll need it”,_ she thought, turning to head west, _“Where the fuck is everyone?”_

Her heart pounded as she skirted around the debris piled up in the cramped alleys, expecting an ambush at every turn. Why else would it be so quiet? She paused at intervals, listening for the telltale roar of a super mutant, raiders yelling, the wet snarl of a feral, even the mechanical monotone of a Gen 1. Her heart sank at that inevitability. 

She reached the base of the unwieldy path to the top of Kendall Apartments. She couldn’t see any lantern or candle light at the top of the building, only the erratic blinking of MILA. She crept up the snow covered wooden planks, hastily slapped together by a raider strung out on Jet, no doubt. The wind howled through her beanie into her ears as she reached the top. Her stomach churned, watching the rickety ferry cart swing wildly in the wind, strung between the two buildings. She balled her gloved fist and slammed it into the call button. 

The cart groaned to life, jerking it’s way over the wire towards her. She stamped her feet, and turned away from the cart’s approach. She didn’t want to _see_ the vehicle of her imminent death. Sensing movement, over towards the westernmost building, she dropped, hugging the frigid steel roof. 

Two figures. One was almost certainly Nora, the telltale vault blue of her uniform poked out underneath her oversize coat. Breathing a sigh of relief, she wouldn't have to ride the rickety death shuttle after all. 

The other was, she couldn’t quite make out, but maybe--she froze. She'd recognize the pointy, pale features of the other figure anywhere.

_”Oh, fuck”,_ she hissed to herself, _“she brought Curie with her?”_

Her stomach plummeted. She hadn’t counted on Nora bringing Curie, she figured maybe Dogmeat, or Hancock, or literally any other capable fighter she had recruited since leaving the vault. Why would she bring a synth, freshly uploaded with a robot consciousness, who likely wasn't capable of anything? A wave of nausea crashed over her as they approached the spindly walkway to meet her. Glory straightened up, and ducked into one of the mostly intact rooms the previous raider occupants had made. She could barely hear them approach as her heart pounded in ears. At least she could blame her flushed face and shaky hands on how cold it was. 

She dropped her pack onto the grimy tile, unslung her rifle, and searched her coat for a cigarette. 

Nora and Curie ducked inside. 

“Brrr! The human body’s reaction to cold temperatures is most interesting!” Curie exclaimed with an enthusiasm Glory had never heard from G5-19. 

Glory looked at Nora, incredulous. 

“Hey.” Nora muttered, not meeting her eyes. 

She found her flip lighter, flicking it to life. She lit, and dragged deeply, eyeing Nora and Curie as they dropped their packs and peeled their jackets off. 

“Hey.” She finally spoke, her voice gravelly.

Nora finally looked at her, her face surveying Glory’s. Glory’s eyes flared. 

_”You bitch. We will have words later”_ , her expression was clear. 

Nora nodded. They both looked at Curie.

Oblivious to the two of them, Curie was filling the fire barrel the raiders had left, picking through the small piles of rubble around the room, searching for splintered wood. 

“All right. So what do you know about this mission?” Glory flicked her ash in Curie’s direction, heart still pounding as she refused to look at her. 

“Probably as much as you do.” Nora sat on her pack, unlacing her boots. “Ticonderoga noticed more synth activity nearby, and we’re supposed to track down where they’re coming from.”

“Where do you think that is? Monsignor Plaza?” She felt her heart slow as she discussed the mission. 

“Maybe. Raiders were holed up in there, but that was before Christmas.” Nora paused as she peeled off a pair of thick wool socks. “Greenetech Genetics is nearby, but we scouted it on the way here. Nothing but Gunners inside.”

“Let me see your Pip-Boy”, Glory demanded, holding out a gloved hand. Nora unbuckled the device from her arm, and placed it in her grasp. Glory switched the screen to life and stared at the map. Nora straightened up and padded around to Glory’s back, peering over her shoulder.

“The Pip-Boy, such a wonder, RobCo made so many fine computers before the war.” Curie mused, coming up behind Nora and Glory, placing her hands on each of their shoulders as she craned her neck. “May I see?” 

Glory stiffened, and took a deep, angry inhale. She thrust the device into Nora’s hands, stepping away from the two of them. She fiddled with her pack as she fumed. 

“You’re right Nora, it’s probably Monsignor Plaza”, she fought to keep her voice steady. She untied her bedroll from her pack. “Hey, Curie, you should get ready to sleep, we have a lot to do tomorrow.”

Curie looked at her, quizzically. Glory fought to make eye contact. She would have a better chance at staring into the sun than meeting her big blue eyes, the eyes of a stranger, a thief, a traitor. 

She forced herself to look at G5-19’s features, Curie’s features. Same pale face, thin eyebrows, ski-jump nose. But they were no longer arranged quite right. Curie carried them with a certain openness, earnest at being alive. Her expression resembled one of the puppies Nora kept at Red Rocket Truck Stop, who looked at everyone with adoration. Tears welled in Glory’s eyes, and she pulled her beanie over her face, pretending to cough in it.

“Is Mademoiselle ill? May I help somehow?” Curie pulled her pack open, searching for a medicine kit.

“No, no, I’m fine.” Glory’s voice was heavy as she pulled the words out of her throat. 

Curie stopped searching, crestfallen. Glory ignored her.

“Nora, will you check the perimeter with me?” Glory’s tone made it clear this was not a question. 

“Yeah, of course.” She laced her boots up, grabbed her rifle, and followed Glory outside.

Glory waited until they had reached the bottom of the walkway, out of earshot of Curie. 

“Nora”, Glory’s voice was deadly serious, “You better explain to me, right now, what the fuck is your deal, bringing her here?” 

“Glory, I know! And I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.” Nora pulled a piece of hair out from under her hat and twisted it around her finger. “But it’s not as though I had time to take her back to the truck stop. We had barely made it to Greygarden before Ticonderoga’s runner found us.”

“You couldn’t have left her there?” Glory interrupted. “Isn’t that place all robots anyway? She would have fit in fine.”

“It is, but I couldn’t run the risk of her running off to go explore. You’ve seen her”, Nora gestured to their shelter, exasperated, “She’s going to need supervision, just for a little bit.”

The two women eyed each other in silence. Nora pulled out her cigarette case, and took two out. 

“She’s learning fast though”, Nora’s voice was muffled as she spoke around the cigarettes, lighting them, passing one to Glory. She stared at Nora pointedly, and fished out one of her own cigarettes.

“Oh yeah? How so?”

Nora took the hint and lowered her hand. “It’s not just the science stuff, although she keeps raving about it, but she can fight too.”

Glory snorted, covering a pang of pain shooting through her chest. Maybe a little G5 was left in there after all. She pulled on her cigarette, and flicked the half finished butt to the ground. 

“Give me that”, she plucked the still burning cigarette out of Nora’s hand. Nora’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’ve got a truce from me.” 

Nora breathed a sigh of relief.

“Not so fast”, Glory continued, “I’m still fucking pissed, but I understand why you brought her”, she paused, taking a drag. “You better make sure all this was worth it”, she waved her hand, indicating everything from the past two days. 

Nora nodded. “It will be.”

“Sure”, Glory shot back, unconvinced, “You want first watch?”

“Yeah, get some sleep, I feel pretty good.” Nora shifted from boot to boot. “And Glory? Thanks.” She gave the synth a thin smile. 

Glory turned from her, “Don’t mention it.”

She listened to Nora’s footsteps retreat up the walk, stamping out the butt of her cigarette with her boot. Arms crossed, she gazed out over the snow, out to the water, wind rippling the surface. 

_”What have I done?”_ she thought to herself. _“And what the hell am I going to do now?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to update this more regularly, please bear with me, I promise I won't abandon this fic.


	7. Generation 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for blood, slight gore (mostly me talking about emergency first aid)
> 
> Our three women go to Monsignor Plaza to kick some synth ass, but one may get a little more than she bargained for.

Nora roused Glory around dawn, she jolted awake with an adrenaline rush. She wasn’t a heavy sleeper, and barely slept on missions. As Nora made preparations to head out, Glory stepped over Curie’s sleeping form and slipped outside. 

She hadn’t realized how warm their space was until she closed the door. The wind had died down, but the temperature dropped with it. The landscape covered with a pristine sheet of snow and ice. The silence was deafening, enveloping Glory. She covered her nose and exhaled into her hands, making a mental note to thank Curie, at some point, for making the small fire last night.

She stalked around the building, as silent as if she’d been wearing a stealth boy. She paused at the back of the building, listening for noise inside Greentech Genetics. Completely silent. Gunners must be running a skeleton crew for the night shift. 

_”We’d better get the hell out of dodge, before they start operations for today”, she thought, “I didn’t bring enough ammo for this.”_

She slipped back inside, slamming the door with a thump. Nora jumped. 

“Get her up”, Glory whispered to her, gesturing to Curie, “We need to go before the Gunners get on the move.”

Nora nodded, and gently shook Curie awake. 

“Is it time already?” Curie asked, as she yawned and stretched.

Glory’s stomach lurched as she eyed her, tearing off a piece of radstag jerky with her teeth as she sat on her pack and laced up her boots. 

Curie sat, crossed legged in her sleeping bag, yawning and blinking. She made no effort to get ready, and Glory could feel blood rushing to her head. Where the hell did she think she was, Diamond City? They needed to leave, _now._

“Curie.” Glory kept her voice low and deliberate, masking her palpable contempt. Curie’s sleep filled eyes swivelled up to meet hers. “I need you to get ready to go, we are leaving in five minutes.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to-”, she scrambled to get out of her sleeping bag, rushing to try to pull on her road leathers at the same time, “I am sorry, I didn’t-”.

Glory waved her hand, cutting her off. They silently busied themselves, dousing the fire with a clump of snow, putting their ammunition in accessible pockets, and bundling up for their trek to Monsignor Plaza.

As they made their way outside, Nora fiddled with the dials on her Pip-Boy, marking their destination on her map. Curie opened her mouth, no doubt to make some obvious remark, but closed it when she saw Glory’s sour expression.

Nora took point as they skirted their way around Greentech Genetics, while Glory brought up the rear, Curie sandwiched in between them. As they trudged along, Glory examined Curie’s gun. Nora had equipped her with one of the basic combat shotguns she spent time refurbishing back at Red Rocket Truck Stop, undoubtedly after she had picked off of a raider’s corpse. She watched as Curie scanned the windows of the old shops and apartments as they picked over the centuries old debris in the narrow alley. 

Nora raised her arm at a right angle and sharply closed her hand into a fist. They had reached the outskirts of Monsignor Plaza. Glory’s heart thumped in her chest as she unslung her shotgun. Her ears ached as she listened for the mechanical monotone of a Gen 1. Nora waved her hand, beckoning Glory and Curie onward, albeit at a much slower pace. Glory winced as their feet crunched over the frozen snow. 

“Is someone there?” 

Glory’s stomach dropped. They had found the Gen 1s. She knew there should be no more than two or three synths on sentry duty. Glory caught Nora’s eye, signaling her to flank the opposite side of Monsignor Plaza’s entrance, albeit at a distance. Nora dropped behind her, tapping Curie to signal her to stay with Glory. 

“Sensors detecting movement. Is someone there?” 

Glory crouched behind the wreckage of a pre-war car, still and tense. She tried to summon the conviction she had when talking to Desdemona about killing Gen 1s. They deserved their chance at redemption, just as she had been given, and she didn’t want to rob them of that. But, she also knew in a few short minutes, she would come face to face with the angry end of a laser rifle. 

_“What’s the old saying? Ends justify the means?,” she thought, smiling wryly to herself._

She was also painfully aware of the other presence crouched behind her. Curie’s teeth chattered in between shaky breaths. Glory looked skyward, rolling her eyes, suppressing the urge to clamp her hands around Curie’s jaw to keep her quiet. Instead, she waited for Nora, who should be-

 _Bang._ The crack of Nora’s sniper rifle startled Curie, she grabbed Glory to keep herself from falling. 

“Curie, goddamnit!” Glory whisper shouted, prying the other woman’s hand off her shoulder, “Would you get it together already? Fucking stop it, Nora’s just removing the sentry synths.”

Two more cracks from Nora’s rifle followed. 

Glory waited in the silence, punctuated by Curie’s sniffles, for Nora’s signal. Two short whistle blasts. Glory tugged Curie, and still crouched, they made their way to Nora’s position. 

Nora took in Curie’s tear stained face and Glory’s irritation. Catching Nora’s eye, Glory raised her eyebrows slightly and shook her head. 

“That’s all the sentries. How do you want to go about clearing inside?” Nora ignored their expressions and turned to Glory for the next phase of their plan. 

“That depends. How many grenades did you bring?” 

Nora flipped open a pouch on her bag. “So I’ve got three baseball grenades, five frag grenades, and four, wait- scratch that, six flashbangs.”

“I only want to use the frag grenades if absolutely necessary. Or the baseball grenades, for that matter, I know how much explosive material you like to pack in there”, she chuckled. “Let’s stick to flashbangs, I’ll take three, you take three.”

Nora divided up the flashbangs, tucking the others back into her pouch. “Hey Curie”, she waved in the other synth’s direction, “are you ok? You ready?”

Curie nodded, her eyes still red, chewing on her lips between her teeth. Her knuckles were white as she gripped her shotgun. “I am ready”, she said, her voice just barely audible. 

“Alright, alright”, Nora stood up, slinging her sniper rifle and pulling a combat shotgun from her pack, “let’s do this.”

“I’ll take point”, Glory said, loading her shotgun with explosive ammunition. 

They wove between the wrecked cars and debris to the Monsignor Plaza entrance. The three women paused and looked at each other in silence, their breath fogging the air between them. Nora gave Glory a tight, lopsided grin, and pushed the door open.

The three women slid inside, Glory closing the door behind them. The plaza had that distinct pre war smell: hundred year old rot and stale mildew tinged with the hint of something metallic, like pennies left in an old indoor fountain. Signs of Institute activity were everywhere: small white flashlights, expended laser rifle ammo, even a disassembled Institute rifle on dusty side table. Glory signaled to Nora and Curie to follow. They crept down the entrance hallway to the right of the main entrance, listening for Gen 1s. 

“Sensors detecting movement. Is someone there?”

They paused as they heard synths prowling on the other side of the door. Nora squinted her eyes as she listened, and held up six fingers. Glory nodded. More than enough synths to justify using a flashbang. She pulled a grenade from one of the many pockets on her coat. 

“No one detected. Perhaps my sensors need recalibration.” 

“Cover your eyes and ears”, she whispered, “and be ready to shoot.”

Glory took a deep breath and tentatively tested the doorknob. Open. She pulled the pin, waited a beat, booted the door open and flung the grenade inside, slamming the door behind a cacophony of monotone synth voices. She jammed her index fingers in her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, and waited. 

She felt the explosion over her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Opening her eyes, the door was still mostly intact, if not a little rattled, and Nora and Curie looked to be in similar condition. They could still hear synths on the other side, searching frantically for the intruders, their voices growing louder. 

“I go right, you go left?”

Nora nodded in response. 

“Curie, bring up the rear, and don’t shoot either of us.”

Curie nodded, tightening the grip on her shotgun. 

Glory booted the door open again. Nora had guessed correctly, six synths. Glory blasted the two closest to her before they had a chance to raise their laser rifles. She swung around to hit another synth that had been so disoriented by the flashbang it was already on the ground. She heard three shotgun blasts from she assumed to be Nora.

“Holy shit Curie”, she heard Nora exclaim. 

Glory spun around only to see Curie, red faced and panting slightly, standing over the skeletal remains of a Gen 1, it’s chest cavity smoldering. 

“Nice job, center mass.” Glory gave her a genuine smile and a two finger salute in approval. 

Nora shot the last two synths in the room. “Clear.”

“Clear”, Glory responded. 

They waited, listening for other synths that must have heard the noise and would come to aid their now fallen Gen 1s. Glory flipped over some pre war desks left in the room, creating a barrier between them and the incoming synths.

“Curie, watch that door”, Glory pointed to the door they had just come through. 

Curie nodded and picked her way over, shotgun aimed at the ready.

Glory hid a small smile as she turned to the door on the opposite side of the room. They could hear the mechanical pitter patter of many synths in the rooms above them and the next room over. 

“Nora, have one of your grenades ready. Here they come!”

The door flung open, Glory saw the grenade hit the first synth in the chest and fall to it’s feet. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fired continuously, hoping her rounds hit the synths before they shot her.

 _BANG._

The light was bright, even through her closed eyelids. She opened her eyes cautiously, dropping behind an overturned desk.

“Reloading!” she shouted, fumbling in her coat pockets for more ammunition.

“Firing!” Nora responded.

Over the high pitched whine in her ears, Glory sensed movement on Curie’s side of the room. Peering around the desk opposite her, she saw Curie smash the butt of her gun in a synth’s face. It crumpled to the ground before another synth clambered through the door, laser rifle at the ready. Holding her rifle like a club, she swung at it, denting it’s head. 

“Reloading!” Nora shouted.

Glory swung around, gun at the ready, “Firing!”

No longer disoriented by the flash bang, the synths were firing their laser rifles, the blue light zipping through the room. Glory huddled behind the desk, dropped her shotgun and pulled out her pistol. Slipping it over the top of the desk, she pulled the hammer back and fired. 

“Cover your eyes and ears!” She barely heard Nora shout over the din and her tinnitus. She closed her eyes, covered her ears and waited.

Except Nora didn’t throw a flashbang, she threw a frag grenade. Glory felt the explosion shake her, and could hear shrapnel zipping all over the room.

Grabbing her shotgun again, she and Nora blasted the last few synths that were climbing over the remains of the other Gen 1s. Heart pounding, she scanned the skeletal bodies, looking for signs of life. 

“Curie!” she heard Nora yell, “Curie! Stop, you’re bleeding!”

Glory’s head snapped around. Curie was indeed bloodied, beating one of the now lifeless synths senseless. Her face was cut, above her left eyebrow, and part of her right sleeve burned away, exposing the scorched flesh of her forearm. Glory jumped over the desk, and grappled with Curie, pulling the shotgun from her hands. 

“Hey! Hey, look at me”, she said, her tone calm but firm, “Curie, look at me, take a deep breath.” Curie’s big blue eyes met hers and Glory’s stomach lurched again. 

Glory averted her eyes and handed the shotgun back to Curie, looking at the synths beneath their feet. There must have been at least six or seven, all dented in various places, their heads smashed entirely. Glory’s stomach twisted with regret as she examined them with tight, bitter smile. She turned back to Curie with a genuine smile.

“Christ, why even give you a gun, you can just use a bat instead”, she joked.

She heard Nora come up behind them. “We need to keep moving to clear out the rest of this place.”

“Not before I tend to your injuries!” Curie broke her silence, her eyes wide as she looked over them. Nora and Glory looked at each other. Nora’s hands were cut, her right thumbnail torn off entirely. The left leg of her vault suit was burned, the skin pink and angry after being shot at with a laser rifle. Glory had a deep cut on her right thigh, just above the knee, still bleeding dark red blood. 

“Oh shit”, she said, almost inaudible to her own ears, “Nora, I think you fragged me.”

“Well if it makes you feel better, I may have fragged myself too”, she said, twisting around to look at her legs, “My mistake, I should have looked before I threw it.”

“I’ll only blame you if I lose the leg”, she replied, her amused tone hiding her panic. She didn’t mind seeing blood, unless it was her blood.

Curie snapped into action, slinging her pack on the ground, rummaging for medical supplies. 

“Take care of Glory first, I’ll watch the door”, Nora said.

“Here, hold this with firm pressure over the cut”, Curie stuffed a wad of gauze into Glory’s hands, “we will need to apply a–” She broke off and fished around in her bag, pulling out a pre-war tourniquet. 

Glory slumped against one of the overturned desks in the room, pressing the gauze into her leg with as much strength as she could muster, her arms shaking with effort.

“Okay, now I will need you to move your arms in order to get a good application.” Curie snaked her arms around Glory’s, pulling the tourniquet snug around her thigh. She twisted the plastic knob of the tourniquet tight. Glory could already feel her foot tingling, but the cut had stopped bleeding considerably.

“It looks to be venous bleeding”, Curie close mouth smiled at Glory, “much better than arterial bleeding, but still not good. I think applying a stimpak will help, yes?” She gave her a thin smile, exhaling through her nose.

She fished around in her bag again. “I am going to inject it directly at the site, on three.” Glory looked at the ceiling as Curie counted. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she felt the pinch and the sting of the stimpak injection, willing herself not to blackout. She hated needles. She tolerated it though, because relief of the stimpak was near instantaneous. But she was now very aware of how wet her pant leg was, and wondered how much blood she had lost. 

“I can give you sutures later, but right now, just a bandage will have to do.” Curie pulled Glory’s hands away from the cut, tying more gauze around her leg. Glory felt her face grow hot as Curie held her hands.

“Ok, I think that is good enough, yes?” Curie stepped back and looked at her handiwork. “How do you feel?” 

Glory looked at her, nodding as she sat up from the desk, testing her leg. Her foot was numb, she hoped the tourniquet and the stimpak were working. 

She traded places with Nora, and watched Curie work on Nora’s smaller cuts and burns. Her stomach fluttered and twisted as Curie expertly applied bandages to Nora’s burns and clipped the rest of her hanging fingernail off. 

They made their way out of the room, looking for the synth’s HQ room. Glory limped behind Nora and Curie, dragging her leg. She was grateful most of Monsignor Plaza was inaccessible, as most of the rooms beyond the entrance had collapsed. They found the synth’s HQ tucked away, towards the back of the plaza. In pre war times, it was a former office, now it was a dilapidated room with two working terminals and several Institute filing cabinets and ammo canisters. Nora and Curie rifled through the cabinets as Glory took a blank holotape from her bag to copy files from the computer. The files confirmed the Railroad’s fears: the Institute knew about Ticonderoga safehouse, and were close to finding the exact location of it. 

“Shit”, Glory muttered, “Dez won’t be happy. We need to let them know, now.”

“What?” Nora peered over her shoulder, her face clouding. “Oh no. Shit, do we have a runner in the area?” 

“We’ll leave them a drop. We have to have bought them a little time with clearing this place out. We can make a safe house be gone in 24 hours, max.”

“If you say so, but we need to do it sooner than later. I don’t think Ticonderoga has the numbers to take on a clearing squad of Gen 1s.”

“They’ll be lucky if it’s just Gen 1s! What if they send a Courser?”

Both of them fell silent. Neither of them wanted to deal with a Courser. They were the perfect killing machines, sent out when the Institute had a task too much for simplistic Gen 1s to handle. 

Nora fished a stack of papers from one of the cabinets, handing it to Curie. “Do you have room for this?”

“Mmhmm”, she hummed, methodically taking out her supplies to make space.

“Uh, Curie”, Glory began, “I can tell you’re very, ah, thorough, but we need to get going now, so just cram those papers in wherever, no one cares if they get wrinkled.”

Curie looked up at her, brows furrowed, mouth open as if to respond, but closed it, shoving the papers in her bag with a pointed look at Glory. 

“Ok, if that’s all, we need to go.” Glory stood up from the computer, testing her foot again. It was completely numb. She’d have to remove the tourniquet if she wanted to keep her foot when they ventured out into the cold. She undid the velcro bindings, unlacing it from her leg. She looked down at the bandage, already leaking through with fresh blood, and shrugged.

“If I bleed to death, so be it.”

“You will not bleed to death, I will not allow it!” Curie huffed, her face tight.

“I’m joking Curie”, Glory dismissed her, “you did a good job, I’ll probably be fine.” 

They made their way back through the path of destruction they carved, their feet crunching over the synth skeletons. Pushing the main entrance open, they filed outside. The sun was out now, the snow glittering and undisturbed. Or at least it looked that way to Glory as she passed out, the sparkling ground coming up to meet her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking winter break as an opportunity to continue writing...whatever this is. I've been sitting on how to write this chapter for awhile (months) and I just wanted to get it done so I don't have to look at it or think about it anymore, so you're going to see a lot of me not knowing how to write sound effects. 
> 
> If you were waiting for an update, I am so sorry, I'm just kind of, the worst. 
> 
> As always, kudos and feedback are appreciated.


	8. Come To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glory and Nora have a heart to heart.

“Curie, over here!” Glory heard Nora hiss, over the sound of her own head bumping against Curie’s shoulder. 

_“Where are we?” she thought. “The last thing I remember was...oh shit.”_

The synths, Curie and Nora, her leg; it all came back in a frantic rush, panic ballooning in her chest. She struggled against Curie’s fireman carry, pushing against her side. 

“Put me down! I can walk, I’m fine.”

Curie gathered her up tighter against her shoulders. “No, you collapsed earlier!”

“Goddamnit, put me down!” She kicked her feet against Curie’s arm, the pain in her leg shooting up to her gut, a wave of nausea washing over her. 

Glory heard Nora approach them, her feet crunching over the snow. She saw that Nora was wearing Glory’s pack over her stomach, panting and red faced.

“Hey, you’re awake!” Nora said, low and fast. She grabbed Glory’s still kicking feet and held her still. “Would you stop? You’re going to bleed out before we get to Bunker Hill.”

“We can’t go to Bunker Hill! What about our—”

“Would you rather die?” Nora hissed, leveling her face with Glory’s. “We’re not going to make it back to HQ, and Bunker Hill is the closest settlement that won’t shoot us on sight.”

“And they have medical facilities where I can properly treat you.” She could feel the vibrations of Curie’s voice as her side strained against the back of Curie’s head. 

“Besides”, Nora huffed, turning away from them, “we’re almost there.” 

Curie followed her, readjusting Glory. They rounded the corner of the next alley, and Glory saw the white tower of Bunker Hill peeking between two former apartment buildings. She tried to relax as Curie carried her, letting the tension go from her legs. She could feel the damp blood soaked into her pant leg though, half frozen in the chilly air. She twisted her head up to look at Curie. The other woman’s eyes were focused on Nora, her lips set in a tight line, following Nora’s tracks as they wove through the alleys, scanning for raiders and super mutants. Glory let her head drop as she went completely slack and faded out of consciousness again.

She kept her eyes closed for a beat, taking stock of her other senses. The hustle and bustle of the market was punctuated by a Brahmin braying, impatiently waiting for it’s provisioner to tend to it. The shack itself was empty, aside from a sleeping bag on the floor next to her bed, a pile of clothes on a chair, and a collection of medical supplies arrayed on a small table. Glory threw the heavy wool blanket off of her and tried to sit up. Pain shot through her leg as it shifted, and wincing, she gingerly eased herself back onto her pillow. She tried adjusting the sheets to get a look at the wound on her leg as she heard footsteps stomp up the shack’s stairs. She pulled the blanket back over her as Nora pushed the door in, her cheeks flushed and fresh snow on her hat.

“‘Bout time you woke up”, she grinned. She pushed the pile of clothes to the floor and sat on the chair, reaching down to unlace her boots. She paused, looking up, “Actually, do you want anything? I think you’re alright to have some bread or something light.”

“How long was I out for?” Glory asked, her voice raspy from not being used.

Nora waved her hand, “Eh, awhile. I’ll let Curie give you the details.”

Glory’s stomach lurched at hearing Curie’s name. “Is she uh, still here?”

“Yeah, of course, like I was going to turn her loose in a snowstorm to fend for herself”, she chuckled, “besides, she’s the best doctor around, and whoo boy did you need that.”

“How bad was I exactly?” Glory asked, panic creeping into her voice.

Nora held both of her hands up, “Whoa, it’s nothing that Curie couldn’t handle! Obviously”, Her tone was reassuring.

“Let me see what she did down there”, Glory struggled, pulling the bedding off of her, “want to help me out?”

Nora stood, and nudging the sleeping bag away with her boot, she folded the blanket and sheets back, exposing Glory’s bandaged thigh. It was covered in a clean dressing, freshly applied. Nora threw the blanket back over her.

“She did an excellent job”, Nora said, softly, “and, look, I’m not telling you not to be a hardass, because I love that about you, but I do hope you take it a little easier on her after this.”

“You know I did my best to be patient with her”, Glory said, slightly defensively.

“No, I know you did, but I could tell it was a huge effort for you. Listen, I know her naivety can be grating, but she’s learning fast, and I really think she would be a great asset on missions with—”, Glory interrupted her.

“No offense, but it’s...more than that”, Glory paused, her words coming out haltingly. 

Nora’s face twisted into a quizzical expression, and then relaxed, “You don’t have to explain it to me if you don’t want to, but if you do, I’ll listen.”

Glory sighed, “You’ve done enough for me that I know I can trust you, it’s just complicated.” She took a deep breath and continued, “You know I was G5-19’s caretaker. I won’t go into it, but we went through all kinds of shit together, to get out of the Institute. That’s not a bond I can just forget.”

The wind picked up outside, howling between the fine cracks in the slats of the shack’s walls.

Turning away from Nora, she lay on her back looking at the ceiling, “I loved her. As much as I’m capable of loving someone else”, her voice cracking. She took a deep breath again, “Once we got out and we were free, she wanted the mind wipe. I supported her, there was no reason for her to remember everything she’d gone through. But…”, her voice trailed off. She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand, talking around the lump in her throat, “But the mind wipe was botched. Nothing Amari could do, she told me these things happen sometimes.” She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears. “It was damn near impossible to get over her dying. We had fought our way out, and for what? For her to just fucking die on me? I hoped, I _hoped_ one day Amari would find a way to get her back, so I kept her safe, although it wasn’t her anymore. And, after a few years, I knew, deep down I knew, there wasn’t going to be any way of getting her back.”

Nora shifted in her chair, the wood creaking slightly, staying silent, waiting for Glory to continue. 

“So when Dr. Amari came to me about you and Curie, I figured it was as good of a time as any to let her go. And seeing Curie in her, _as_ her, it was a lot for me.”

Nora took her pause to interject, “I knew you had some history with her, and I didn’t want to bring Curie with me, but time was of the essence. I know it must be hard having her here, especially since she’s nothing like G5.”

“But that’s the thing, she _is_ like G5”, Glory interrupted, “I didn’t think Curie was going to be like her at all at first, what with all her questions, her awkwardness. But when it comes down to it, Curie is tenacious, she’s brave, and she carried my damaged ass out of a fight.” She chuckled at that last part.

They both turned towards the door as they heard footsteps stamp up the stairs. Nora stood up as the door burst open, Curie quickly shutting it behind her, accompanied by a flurry of snow.

Glory cleared her throat and looked at both of them.

“Hey, I’m going to go grab her some food, she’s been awake for a little while now”, Nora said to Curie, adjusting her jacket, “I’ll be back."

Nora shut the door behind her, footsteps receding down the stairs. Glory and Curie looked at each other in silence for a moment.

Grabbing fresh gauze from her pack, she turned back to Glory. “How are you feeling today?”


	9. Doctor-Patient Confidentiality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short lil chapter to kind of polish off the situation at Bunker Hill. Glory, once again, proves she is shit at articulating her feelings. It's mostly just medical conversation between Curie and Glory, and Glory has a lot of feelings about it.

“How are you feeling?” Curie repeated herself.

Glory cleared her throat, “I’m fine, I think. But you’re the doctor, so you tell me.”

Curie laughed, cracking a smile, “It is good to see you awake, in any case. Let me see your wound”, she said, gesturing to Glory’s leg.

With a flourish, Curie whipped the blanket and sheets off of Glory before she could answer. They both looked at the gauze. It had been oozing since Glory had woken up and had a small patch of plasma and blood showing through the outermost layer. 

“That needs to be changed”, Curie said, gathering up fresh gauze, “I’m going to bend your knee now, and lie back, because it may hurt you a little.”

“I’ve got it”, Glory said, shooing Curie’s hand away. She grit her teeth, sucking in air through them as she tried to bend her knee.

“Stop! You’re going to exert too much pressure on the sutures”, she held her hand over Glory’s knee, “let me help.”

She held Glory’s leg, gently yet firmly, and slowly bent the knee, “Just breathe, ok?” 

She faced the ceiling, trying to block out the pain lancing through her leg, and to hide her reddening face from Curie. Grabbing a stack of blankets, Curie propped up Glory’s foot, “okay, you may relax now.”

Curie carefully undid the tape holding the bandage together, and unwrapping the gauze from her leg, Glory felt the cold air wash over her tender, still healing wound. Wincing, she looked at it, inhaling sharply. 

Scar tissue was forming around the deep cut, an island of pinkish, puckered sutures on a sea of dark skin. The sutures were small, neat, and too many for Glory to want to count. She let her head drop back on the pillow.

“It is healing up nicely”, Curie said, her tone pleased, “it has been some time since I worked on organic tissue, but I must say it is much easier when I have these human hands”, Glory could hear the marvel in her voice. 

“What did you have to do exactly, to, ah, clean it up?” Glory asked, “Because I’ve seen my fair share of Commonwealth medicine, and this is pretty good”, she said. 

“You have 24 external sutures, as well as 7 subcutaneous sutures, but the most important issue was how much blood you lost. So, I found needle, tubing, and an IV bag and drew approximately a liter of blood from my body to transfer to yours.”

“You what?” Glory’s stomach lurched, she held the sides of her face in her hands. Glory was no stranger to blood and gore, but thinking about her own injuries made her queasy. 

“Our synthetic bodies all have the same blood type, O positive. You were on the verge of hypovolemic shock, and you would have died without it”, her tone matter of fact.

Glory laughed nervously, brushing a shock of white hair back, “Curie, has anyone ever told you you have great bedside manner?”

“What do you mean?” Curie asked, her eyebrows knitted. She balled up the used bandage and threw it in a bucket sitting in the corner. 

“Ah, well usually a doctor doesn’t tell their patient that they almost died”, Glory let out a big genuine belly laugh at seeing Curie’s horrified face, “no, don’t worry about it, I appreciate the honestly.”

Curie visibly relaxed, “That is a relief, and I am glad you told me, I am still learning new things all the time. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Glory’s cheeks went red again, and she coughed, “So Doc, do you want to bandage me back up?”

“Oh! Yes, I do, I am so sorry”, Curie scrambled for supplies, “actually, would you be able to have a bandage off for a few minutes? It needs some exposure to air.”

“Sure thing Doc.”

Glory watched as Curie busied herself straightening up medical supplies, her throat tight. 

“Are you feeling any other soreness?” 

She tested her other uninjured limbs, wincing slightly, “it’s nothing that I can’t handle.”

“I removed your garments and checked you over for other injuries after we arrived, but the patient knows how they feel best”, she said, reciting that last part in a singsongy voice, as though it was a rule she learned long ago.

Glory’s eyes bugged out of her face slightly, but she said nothing. She had fought hard for her body, and she guarded it closely. Inside the Institute, there was no privacy, all synths treated as utilitarian machines. Nakedness brought that feeling of helplessness back in full force. The only people that had seen her naked, post Institute, were Magnolia and Doc Carrington. And Deacon saw her bare ass one time when he stumbled in on her changing. 

She took a deep breath and peeked under the covers to see what she was wearing. Breathing a sigh of relief, she saw she was in her underwear and a clean white t shirt. Curie hummed off key as she fiddled with medical supplies. The tune twisted somewhere in Glory’s chest. 

“I think it has been long enough, yes?” Curie said, absently. She went to work bandaging Glory’s wound back up, “I will be back later to check on you, but in the meantime, please rest, I will take care of you.” 

Glory twisted her head to get a better look at Curie’s face. Was she seeing things, or was there something more than doctor-patient professionalism in her tone and expression? Doc Carrington certainly didn’t talk to her like this. 

“Hey, Curie”, she turned to face Glory, her face open, ready to listen, “I wanted to say thanks, for all of this. I really appreciate it.” 

“Of course Glory”, her name sounded so strange in Curie’s light voice and French accent, “I will leave you to rest. Did you need anything before I go?”

Glory shook her head and with that, Curie threw her coat back on and went back out into the cold. Finally alone again, Glory let a few tears go, wiping them with the scratchy wool blanket. How could Curie know the same tune G5 used to hum? She eventually drifted off to sleep, her thoughts tangled up in questions, Curie, and her memories of G5-19.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for bearing with me everyone, we're about to leave Bunker Hill and head back out into the Commonwealth.


	10. Five Stages of Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glory, in a moment of perceived weakness, cuts herself a break.

Glory drifted in and out of sleep over the next few days. She woke only when Nora and Curie visited her occasionally to bring her food and check on her leg. However, yesterday, she was very much awake when they jammed a stimpak into the meaty part of her thigh.

“You asshole, why are you laughing?” Glory asked Nora as Curie pressed the plunger on the stimpak. Pinch, sting, burning sensation. How people ever used these things in the middle of combat, Glory had no idea. 

“I’m not! No really”, Nora turned her head, waving her hands, trying to hide an obvious smile, “I can’t help it, I’m just a nervous laugher.”

“It is all done!” Curie exclaimed, extracting the needle and capping the end and tossing it in the trash bucket. She pressed her hands into Glory’s leg, massaging the injection site. 

Glory’s face tightened at Curie’s touch, her leg tensing. Nora noticed. 

“Hey Curie, maybe Glory wants to do that herself.”

“Oh, I am so sorry”, she looked horrified, “it is just standard procedure.”

“No, I understand, it’s fine, I’m just kind of tired”, Glory said, not meeting either of their eyes.

“I think it’s about lunchtime anyway, let’s go get some of that fresh Brahmin stew before they run out, come on Curie”, Nora took Curie’s arm, gentle but firm, like a dance partner.

They showed themselves out, and Glory laid back down and fell into a fitful sleep, her leg throbbing and her chest aching.

She awoke in her bed, the room almost completely dark. Letting her eyes adjust, she saw dim light stream in through the gaps in the shack’s slats. 

Judging from the quiet, it was very early in the morning, before traders started showing up and the market opened. She tested her leg. As much as she disliked needles, she had to admit stimpaks did their job, she was now more stiff than in pain. Swinging her legs over the bed, she sat up, her bare feet recoiling from the cold floor. 

She grabbed some socks from the pile of clothes. She stood slowly, testing her weight on her leg. It would be some time before she was back at peak condition, but at least she was mobile. Baby steps. 

She dressed quickly, covering the goosebumps that sprouted all over her skin. The shack was not well insulated and Commonwealth winters were not kind. 

Gingerly shutting the door, she crept over the well trod snow as quietly as her leg allowed her. Someone shoveled all the paths all over Bunker Hill, and she followed one that took her toward the monument from which the settlement took its name.

The only people she saw at this hour were the guards patrolling the perimeter of the settlement, and Old Man Stockton piddling around in the trader’s mart. He tensed with recognition at seeing her, and she nodded at him as she walked past, signaling the end of their interaction. She knew he would send word back to HQ that she was up and about. 

Her feet carried her to the crumbling white base of the Bunker Hill monument. Something, a feeling, tugged her toward the scaffolding stairs and she started to climb. She pulled the sleeve of her jacket over her hand, protection from the frozen metal handrail as she began her climb over the ice covered steps. 

Ascending to the uppermost platform, she saw the vague shape of another person, bundled in a heavy winter jacket, leaning over the railing as they surveyed the sprawl of the snow covered Commonwealth. Glory hoped that, whoever they were, wouldn’t mind some silent company. 

Except.

The other person turned towards the sound of Glory’s shuffling footsteps, nose red and eyes wide. 

_Of course it was Curie, who else would it be?”_ Glory thought to herself, frustrated. 

“Good morning, Glory”, Curie said, her voice rough from sleep. 

Glory nodded to her, not trusting herself to speak. She approached Curie on the narrow platform, posting up next to her. They both looked over the Commonwealth in silence. 

Glory loved how, from a distance, the Commonwealth looked so serene. Distance blurred all the rough edges, ugliness, and violence. She could, for a moment, pretend that raiders and super mutants weren’t lurking in every dark corner ready to kill, and the Institute wasn’t hunting down her and her friends. Her breath hitched in her chest, overcome by what felt like every single emotion straining to be released from her ribcage. 

She saw Curie glance at her from the corner of her eye. Glory closed her eyelids against an incoming onslaught of tears, willing herself to take deep, steady breaths. She sensed it before it happened, Curie reached her arm around Glory and pulled her into an awkward side hug. Glory’s entire body tensed, steeling herself against the contact. 

Perhaps it was the events of the past few days, but as Curie sensed her discomfort and began to pull away, Glory allowed herself this small kindness, and returned Curie’s awkward side hug, leaning into the other woman’s shoulder. Curie pulled her in closer, both of them looking out over the Commonwealth together in silence. 

Curie pulled away slightly, craning her neck to look at Glory. Glory’s mouth twisted and she raised her eyebrows in a universal ‘what do you want’ expression. 

“I’m sorry”, Curie said, searching her face. 

Glory gave a short barking laugh, surprised. “What exactly are you sorry for?” 

Curie let go of Glory to face her. “I talked to Nora.”

Glory’s stomach lurched and her eyes flashed. She’d kill Nora for this, everything she told her was in confidence. She never meant for Curie to know about any of it.

Curie put her hands up, eyes wide with panic at seeing Glory’s reaction. “She did not mean anything by it! She just told me G5-19 meant a lot to you, and that you may be still be grieving over her.”

Glory chewed on her lip, mulling over this half truth. 

Curie continued, breathing into her hands in an effort to warm them up, her voice plaintive “I just wanted to know why you seem to dislike me so much.”

Glory paused. “Curie, just know, this whole thing, it was very difficult for me.” She leaned over the railing of the scaffolding, scuffing the toe of her boot along the wood, cutting a little path through the frost. 

Curie leaned over the railing too. “I know that now. I tried to ‘put myself in your shoes’, I think is the expression, and thought about Dr. Burrow and how strange it would be for him to die and then have another person inside him. I think I would not adjust to that well.” 

“It is strange Curie, but I’ll get used to it.”

“Now that I have context, I want to say thank you, again. Knowing I live inside someone you cared for very much, I just”, she paused, taking a deep breath, “thank you for giving me this chance.” 

On impulse, Glory reached for her hand, squeezing it encouragingly. “You’re welcome.” Warmth and calm bloomed in her chest. 

Glory let go of her hand. The wind picked up, blowing snow from the ruined rooftops that surrounded Bunker Hill, the whistling breaking the comfortable silence. 

“I never asked, what the hell are you doing up here in the middle of the night?”

Curie laughed. “I suppose I could ask you the same thing! I like to look at all of this”, she gestured toward the Commonwealth, “after spending over 200 years in the same room, it is wonderful to see new sights.”

Glory nodded, after spending all those years underground in the Institute, she could relate. 

“What brings you out here? You are a patient, I could get my medical license revoked for allowing you to be out and about”, Curie asked, her tone tentative, but joking.

“I don’t think anyone cares for licenses much anymore”, Glory chuckled, “but I’m out here for the same reasons as you, I guess. I couldn’t sleep.”

The wind picked up more, cutting through Glory’s bulky coat. Her leg began to throb, she could feel heat from her wound radiating through her pants.

Curie started toward the stairs. “We should probably leave though, it seems to be getting colder. May I help you down?”

“I may actually need it”, Glory said, gingerly stepping down the scaffolding, Curie’s grip light on her elbow.

She descended slowly, careful to not slip. Bunker Hill was starting to wake up, traders setting out their wares, and settlers stoking the various fires that burned throughout. 

Curie walked Glory back to her room. “I will be back later to check on you, but for now, please try to sleep”, her voice brimming with tenderness. 

Glory’s gut fluttered at her tone. “Sure thing Doc, although you should get some sleep too.”

Curie threw her arms around Glory’s neck, catching her off guard slightly. “Thank you”, she murmured into Glory’s shoulder. 

Glory returned the hug tentatively, patting Curie’s back. “Go get some sleep.”

The women let go, and Glory watched as Curie retreated back to her own room until she was out of sight. She shut the door, sighing. Kicking her boots off, she settled into bed, and almost immediately, fell asleep, harsh winter wind whipping outside.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've ever written, so helpful feedback or comments would be appreciated. If you want to contact me, you can find me here, or at my very sporadically updated fallout specific tumblr: dinodeelitemotel.tumblr.com


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